OG AG

I like to tell people I'm part of the original class of the American Girl generation. OG AG, if you will. The company started in 1986, two years after I cried my first cry. But there were inevitably some start-up years, so by the time I was of fancy doll age, American Girl had taken off.

I've told you of my nostalgic memories/obsession with this company and its products. So it should come as no surprise that when I finally got to step foot in an American Girl store for the first time last December, I was a lotta bit excited. And since that flagship trip was at the age of 26, I had to suppress said excitement to inner monologue (and by "monologue" I mean "freaking out squealing") in order to appear the mature woman I've become.

You see, my niece was to receive her very own American Girl doll for Christmas. So naturally, I insisted on fueling what's sure to be a doll trunk full of clothing and accessories. The fad with this era of AG'ers is to get the dolls made that look like you instead of flocking to a pre-selected character, complete with story books, era clothing and accessories. To each her own. (I think we all know what I'd pick, though.)

I was blown away with the selection, and prices, of all things American Girl. I mean, I understand that wearing headgear is a traumatizing period in life, (actually I don't, because I never had it. And actually, do they even do that anymore?) But asking mom and pops to drop $40 so your doll can be humiliated with you? Wow. I shouldn't be so judgmental. There were some awesome accessories, too. But there's something about the classic three — Molly, Kirsten and Samantha — that just begs to be restored and supported.

I hope if I have a daughter that a) American Girl is still around, 2) She'll have the sense to choose a character instead of a doll that looks like her. Said sense may or may not be egged on by her mom, just saying.

Therein lies something new I did. In December. (Whoops.)